The Campbell Trilogy

by Monica McCarty

  But he wouldn’t go without a fight. He looked at Conall and Leif, telling them without words to be ready. Their long great swords would be of limited use with the low ceiling, but his dirk would provide all the steel he needed.

  He found a seat in the corner and kept his face averted as the dozen or so of Campbell soldiers filed in. He was grateful for the smoky darkness of the old stone and thatch building, though the musky stench left something to be desired. The accommodation at the drover’s inn was limited to the chamber above and the floor of the room that they were in, so the new arrivals would be bedding down in the stables. A prospect that did not appeal to the captain—a heavyset, ruddy-faced man with a crooked flat nose that had been smashed more than once, of around Duncan’s age and whom he didn’t recognize.

  If it wasn’t for Jeannie sleeping in one of the chambers above, Duncan would have welcomed the excuse to escape to the stables, but he wanted to stay close to her.

  The captain took a surly attitude, and started to object loudly. The innkeeper’s efforts to appease the man were falling on deaf ears.

  “Who are these men?” the captain asked. “We are on the earl’s business and have been riding all day. My men are tired.”

  The innkeeper, a thin, balding man with long wisps of white hair combed across his skull looked around anxiously. “Lady Gordon arrived with her guardsmen some time ago.”

  Duncan swore under his breath.

  “Gordons?” The captain’s surliness took on a malicious edge. The Earl of Argyll and the Marquis of Huntly might have nominally made their peace, but Jeannie was right: old hatreds died hard. Their identity had only given the Campbell captain further cause to complain. “Duncan Dubh’s conspirators?” The captain’s coal-black gaze scanned the room. “Perhaps they are harboring the traitor?”

  The Gordon guardsmen started to protest the slur, but before Duncan or anyone could object, Jeannie—who must have heard the noise from her room—intervened.

  “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” The soft, dulcet tones stopped the conversation as effectively as a gunshot.

  She appeared like something out of a bard’s tale. Her auburn hair was brushed to a brilliant sheen and pulled back at the crown with a tiny comb of pearls to tumble down her back. Wearing a pale ivory velvet gown, she looked wholly out of place among the rough soldiers and primitive surroundings, like Persephone descending into Hades.

  The Gordon guardsmen, including Duncan, tensed, ready to do whatever it took to protect their lady. His was the first hand to reach for the handle of his dirk but not the last.

  They need not have worried. The stunned expressions on the Campbells’ faces were almost comical. Jeannie, however, seemed entirely unaware of the effect her ethereal beauty had on the men. She smiled at the captain and batted her long, dark lashes. “Have my men caused you any trouble, sirrah?”

  The Campbell captain almost pissed himself in his eagerness to assure her otherwise. With Jeannie’s arrival the surly solider suddenly became a caricature of a gallant knight. Jeannie returned his attentions with grace and charm, though Duncan could see that her smile never reached her eyes. Only the slight shake of her hands betrayed her nervousness. She knew well what was at stake.

  Thanking the captain for his understanding, she offered to buy a round of ale for him and his men “to help make up for causing them a night in the stables.” The captain insisted she join them. Her gaze flickered to Duncan before she agreed, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

  He seethed in silence as Jeannie flirted with the captain, the soft tinkle of her laugh grating like an iron mace down his spine. The knowledge that she did so only for him did not make it any easier. He gripped his tankard until his knuckles turned white. The damned lecher couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her low bodice and the lush round of soft flesh that swelled above it.

  When the captain’s arm brushed the side of her breast, however, it wasn’t only Duncan’s knuckles that betrayed his anger. Instinctively, he lunged forward in his seat, stopping himself at the last moment from standing up.

  The movement did not go unnoticed. The ale Jeannie had urged the Campbell captain to drink had yet to completely dull his warrior’s instincts and he’d sensed the threat.

  Duncan felt the other man’s piercing scrutiny as he leveled his gaze on him. “You there,” he said. “Come forward where I can see you.”

  Duncan’s relaxed position on the bench gave no hint of his sudden alertness. All it would take was one swift movement and his dirk would be buried in the captain’s gullet. The lecherous fool deserved as much for daring to touch Jeannie and for the lewd thoughts that were surely running through his mind.

  Despite the temptation, Duncan would not act precipitously. Although he was confident he and his men could escape, there was Jeannie to consider. She could be hurt easily in the melee that ensued.

  Duncan brought his tankard to his mouth and drew a long gulp. Lazily he put it down on the table, but made no move to do the other man’s bidding. The Campbell captain held no authority over him.

  The captain’s face flushed an angry scarlet as the silent standoff continued. Eventually he rose from the table and crossed the room to stand before him, only then did Duncan stand. To his credit, the Campbell captain didn’t flinch when Duncan rose above him, looming over him by at least half a head.

  “I’ll have your name.”

  Duncan was tempted to give it to him. He sensed Leif and Conall’s readiness at his side, but he also knew brandishing weapons in a small place like this was dangerous. It wasn’t in his nature to back down, but he wouldn’t take a chance with Jeannie’s safety.

  Even if it meant his capture.

  The realization shocked the hell out of him. In spite of all that had happened, in spite of her unwillingness to help him, he would give his life for hers without hesitation. He was still grappling with the implications when Jeannie suddenly appeared at the captain’s side.

  “You’ll have to forgive my guardsman, captain. They are a fiercely loyal and protective lot and will follow no one’s orders but my own. I’m sure this man meant no disrespect to your authority.”

  The Campbell captain appeared mollified, not by her words as much as the dazzling smile she bestowed upon him. He puffed up like a bloody peacock. “ ’Tis the king’s business we are on, searching for the traitor Duncan Dubh. Your man has the look of him.”

  Duncan tensed, knowing that right now Jeannie was all that stood between him and death.

  How far would she go to help him? Would she help him? If she wanted him gone, this was her chance.

  “You can’t think my guardsman could be the infamous Black Highlander?” Jeannie asked incredulously.

  Abashed, the captain’s flush grew even redder. “He’s said to be a man of unusually large height and build with black hair and blue eyes.”

  It wasn’t just the Campbells’ eyes that fixed on him. He could feel the weight of the Gordon guardsmen’s gazes as well. Duncan was a common enough name in the Highlands, but the captain had perhaps raised a connection in more than one mind. Even if they suspected, however, Duncan knew they would not defy their mistress.

  Jeannie put her hand on the Campbell captain’s arm, threw her head back slightly to reveal the long ivory column of her throat, and laughed. Duncan’s gut clenched. The entrancing musical sound lulled like a siren’s song. And with his stunned, wide eyes, the captain had the look of a man who’d been mired in darkness and then had a blazing torch thrust before him.

  “Oh, Captain. If you are going to arrest every tall, black-haired, blue-eyed man in the Highlands you are going to have a very crowded dungeon.” She smiled, green eyes twinkling. “Why you are a tall, well-built man yourself.” She blushed coyly as if just realizing what she’d said. “Were your eyes blue instead of brilliant green, you might qualify.”

  Duncan seethed as she took the captain’s arm and gently steered him back to the table, leaning forward to give him a healthy view
of the deep cleft between her breasts.

  Brilliant green? The ridiculous compliments worked. Although Duncan could feel the man’s gaze on him a number of times throughout the long evening, the Campbell captain did not trouble him again. How could he, when Jeannie kept him utterly entranced. Duncan had never seen her play the coquette before and watching her do so now set his teeth on edge. That she did so only for his benefit did not ease the storm of dangerous emotions surging inside him.

  The gratitude he felt was no match for the jealousy and desire gnashing around inside him like an angry lion. He had to hold himself back from marching over there, tossing her over his shoulder and taking her upstairs where they would settle this thing between them once and for all. Savage and barbarian, perhaps, but bloody well effective.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and poured over his tankard. How the hell did she manage to do this to him? He reverted to every primitive instinct when it came to her.

  There was one tense moment when Jeannie excused herself for bed, but the captain went off willingly to the stables when she suggested that he join her to break his fast in the morning. Duncan was saved, however, from enduring another long meal when the Campbells were called away early in the morning by rumors of a sighting of the Black Highlander near Inverness only the night before.

  Despite the false rumor, Duncan knew the noose was tightening.

  Thus, it was with some relief when late in the afternoon two days later the formidable towers of Castleswene appeared in the distance. The thick gray limestone walls seemed an oasis of stone against the brilliant sapphire seas sparkling beyond. Still, the edginess did not completely leave him, knowing he could be riding to his death. Jamie’s reception could be far from cordial and his brother—unlike the Campbell captain—would not mistake his identity.

  The wind intensified as darkness fell as they neared the coast. Castleswene was one of the oldest stone castles in Scotland, having been built over four hundred years before to guard the mouth of Loch Sween. What it lacked in modern conveniences, however, it made up for in durability and fortitude with ten foot thick walls. The original four buttressed wall structure had been added to over the years, including the addition of a squarish corner hall tower on the east and a round tower with adjacent barrack’s on the west. The castle had been given over to the Campbells for their service and loyalty by Robert the Bruce after the castle was taken from the MacSweens during the Wars of Independence.

  Duncan rode beside Leif and Conall, but kept his eye on Jeannie, half afraid that she might blow away. He knew how weary she must be after the long journey, but she kept her head down against the biting wind and did not break her pace until they rode through the gate and into the courtyard.

  They’d said little to each other since the night he’d come so close to capture. He knew he should thank her—she had stood up for him after all and lied about his identity at great risk to herself—but every time he thought about the way she’d flirted with the captain … He wasn’t ready to be reasonable.

  She’d sent a rider ahead, alerting Jamie of their arrival and there was a crowd of men gathered at the bottom of the forestairs to greet them. By now, the sun was a distant memory and only the orange flicker of torchlight broke the black shroud of night. Mist rolled off the water like dragon’s breath, filling the night air with black haze.

  The man that stepped forward with an unmistakable air of authority was every bit as tall and heavily muscled as Duncan. His features were strong and blunt, his jaw square. Even in the darkness, Duncan could see the hard unyielding glint in his eye. It was a look of absolute command that did not brook defiance.

  He shifted his head, giving Duncan a different angle of his profile, and the shadow of a memory hit him. Only then did he realize that the imposing fortress of a man before him was his “little” brother Jamie.

  “Lady Gordon,” Jamie said, helping her down from her horse. “I was surprised to receive your message.”

  “I hope we are not intruding,” Jeannie said.

  Jamie shook his head. “You are always welcome. Your son is anxious to see you and my wife is looking forward to meeting you.” A wry smile turned his mouth, the first hint of emotion in the otherwise stony façade. “It was the timing that surprised me. We have only just arrived from Dunoon ourselves—my sister was recently married—and the winter storms have made the roads treacherous.”

  Lizzie married? Duncan felt a pang in his chest, the knowledge bittersweet. He was happy for his sister, but how he would have liked to see Lizzie wed. But it did explain why she hadn’t responded to his missive.

  “I’m afraid this visit could not wait,” Jeannie said.

  Jamie cocked a brow, intrigued. “Oh?”

  Though he’d been glued to the conversation taking place before him, Duncan had stayed back in the crowd of guardsmen who’d dismounted behind their lady as she greeted the man known throughout the Highlands as Argyll’s Enforcer—the position that would have belonged to him had treachery not driven him from home. Surprisingly, it wasn’t resentment Duncan felt but pride.

  The time had come. He stepped forward out of the shadows into the circle of light.

  He felt his men tense at his side, knowing the moment of truth was upon them. He’d made Conall and Leif promise that if he was taken they would return to the rest of his men in Spain. When Leif reached for the handle of his dirk, Duncan shot him a look of reminder.

  Catching the movement, Jamie glanced over Jeannie’s shoulder and stilled. He did not need an introduction, recognition flickered in his eyes. The slight tightening around his mouth was the only visible reaction in his otherwise implacable façade. Their eyes met for a long pause. “I see the rumors were true,” Jamie said flatly. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Duncan tensed at the ominous greeting, half wondering whether his brother was going to call for the guards. “Happy to see him” would be a stretch.

  He was saved from finding out by the sudden appearance of one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. She rushed down the stairs, cheeks flushed, a wide smile of greeting turning her sensuously curved mouth, and long ebony hair tumbling loose around her shoulders. Unless he was mistaken, this lovely creature was the infamous Caitrina Lamont, now Campbell.

  She started to apologize for being late, when she caught one glance at her husband’s face and stopped midsentence. She hurried to his side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  As Jamie’s face was about as expressive as stone, Duncan wondered at her keen ability to discern her husband’s moods. Had his brother made a love match? It seemed out of character for what he remembered of his practical, duty-bound brother. Though he better than anyone should know that love struck blindly—neither beggar nor king immune to its blow.

  Jamie didn’t answer, but turned his gaze to Duncan. Caitrina followed the direction of his stare and startled with such immediacy that Duncan knew the resemblance between the brothers was more pronounced than he’d realized. She wasn’t as proficient as her husband at hiding her emotions and Duncan could see shock register across her exquisite features. He half expected her to cross herself—if Scotland were still Catholic she probably would have.

  “Jesu!” she muttered instead. She immediately put her hand on Jamie’s arm as if to calm him. Remarkably it seemed to work and some of the tension dissipated.

  Caitrina recovered from her shock, recalled her duties as hostess, and turned to Jeannie to offer her a greeting. After exchanging pleasantries, she said, “You must be exhausted after such a long journey. I will have baths set up for your men in the kitchens and one will be sent up for you in the tower. The evening meal will be in about an hour—if you need anything before then you only have to ask. I hope you will be staying with us through Hogmanay?”

  Jeannie shook her head. “I must return to Aboyne Castle well before the New Year. If I am not back before Christmas my daughter will never let me hear the end of it. I’m afraid I can only stay a week or so
.”

  Duncan stiffened. He could hear it in her voice: Her duty was done. Getting him here safely had repaid any obligation she might have felt.

  Caitrina continued, “May I suggest we reconvene in the Great Hall?” Her gaze slid meaningfully to Duncan. “Your men will join us, of course.”

  Jeannie nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “It’s a sacred obligation in the Highlands, but in this case also a pleasure,” Caitrina said with a charming smile. Her smile turned to a warning when she looked at Jamie. “Isn’t that so, husband?”

  The less than subtle reminder was not missed by his brother. “Aye,” he drawled, “even a traitor is safe tonight.”

  And with that ominous warning, Jeannie was led into the keep by the laird and lady, leaving Duncan behind.

  He supposed the initial reunion had gone better than he expected—at least he hadn’t been tossed in the nearest dungeon. Whether Jamie’s forbearance continued, however, remained to be seen.

  He waited, hoping …

  But Jeannie never looked back. She’d done as she vowed and brought him to his brother’s, now it was up to him alone to make his case and keep the rope from his neck. He wished he knew how to keep the ache from his chest.

  The two men stared at one another across the table, alone, after what seemed an infinitely long meal.

  In the bright candlelight of the laird’s solar, Duncan could better see why Caitrina Lamont had reacted as she did. Except for hair color and the difference of a handful of years between them, he and Jamie could have been twins. If his identity had been secret before, to anyone who saw them together it wouldn’t be any longer. He’d done his best to sit far away from Jamie during the evening meal and keep his face down on his meal, but undoubtedly some of the clansmen had realized who he was, which gave him even less time in which to convince his brother.